Light Outside
by hey-torch
Summary: "We'll fall, we'll try. We'll do our best and I'll love you all the while." (Sequel to Almost Everything I Wish I'd Said)


**A/N: Hello my friends. Here I am, with the much anticipated sequel to Almost Everything I Wish I'd Said. YAY! It took longer than I'd hoped but I'm finally here and ready to lead us all on another adventure.**

**As I said, this is the sequel to Almost Everything I Wish I'd Said and if you haven't read that, you really should read that if you have any desire to read this, otherwise you will not get several things.**

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***Disclaimer: Since this is a new publication, I will restate the powerfully sad fact that I own nothing and make no financial profit from this little endeavor. It's all in good fun. The title of the story comes from the amazingly beautiful song "Light Outside" and belongs to the amazingly talented Micheal Grubbs of Wakey!Wakey!**

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**Are you excited? ME TOO!**

**Put your mittens around your kittens and away we go!**

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"_I promise you my heart just promise to sing_

_Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep"_

'_Prelude 12/21'_

-AFI

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"Ok."

Deep breaths.

Calm.

Focus.

"Ok."

Her eyes gazed back at her from her reflection. It was unnerving.

Deep breath.

Focus.

She could do this.

She just needed to focus.

Stress made it harder.

Stress, high emotions; things that were sure to run in abundance during the day ahead.

Deep breath.

Focus.

She wet her right hand under the cool water of the faucet and ran it over her face. With one more deep breath, she braced herself against the sink. Looking into the mirror she spoke in a quiet voice, so she couldn't be heard outside the small bathroom.

"I am Hermione Jean Granger. I am 18 years old. I was born on September 19. My parents are…"

Her voice trailed off as she drew a blank. She bit down on her lip and scrunched her eyes shut as she shook her head.

Another breath…and she tried again.

"My parents are…" still nothing; no matter how hard she tried. The names weren't coming to her. She pressed her finger hard into her scarred temple, wishing she could just dig her nails deep enough to find the dysfunction and rip it out. "Damn it."

A knock on the door made her jump.

"Hermione?"

The voice came through the old wooden door of the Burrow's upstairs bathroom. She turned towards it and called out in a voice she hoped didn't shake too much.

"Yes?"

Harry's voice came again, softly. She could tell he was standing, or leaning, very close to the door.

"Is everything alright?"

She cleared her throat.

"F-Fine." She cursed herself for the nervous stutter at the edge of her answer. " "Just freshening up, I'll be right out."

There was a moment where the wood planks gave a groan as the young man outside the door shifted his weight.

"Hermione-"

"I said I'm fine." She cut in before he could ask again. She took a breath and softened her voice. "Please, Harry, I just need a moment. Please."

She heard him release an audible sigh, but he said nothing more. She was thankful.

She just needed a moment to collect herself. Her head just got a bit jumbled from time to time. She didn't recall everything that happened in the time she'd been captured and after; sometimes it was more like far away moments that belonged to someone else. Truly that's what it was for some time, another person's life. She wasn't herself in the remotest bit after what she'd been told had been a particularly horrid curse from Voldemort.

The antidote, as it were, that Snape had provided posthumously had done a great deal to help remedy that, but she was not without imperfections.

A small knock came from the door again. This time the voice wasn't Harry's.

"Hermione?" Ginny this time, "Hermione, I'm coming in, ok?"

The young redhead waited a moment for a response. After a moment, she heard a soft 'Ok' from beyond the door. She gave a look to Harry before slowly opening the door and entering.

She found her friend sitting on the closed lid of the toilet with her hands clasped together. Ginny made sure the door was closed behind her, giving them privacy. After doing so, she approached the girl with as casual an air possible.

"You alright?"

Hermione nodded and kept her eyes on her hands for a moment. Her right was firmly closed around the fingers of her left. She nodded quickly and moved her eyes upward.

"Yes. I only needed…" she paused to take a slow breath and unclasped her hands long enough to run her fingers beneath her eye, swiping at a tear. "Have you seen my glove?" She suddenly changed the subject.

"I'm sorry, I haven't."

Hermione's own eyes went to her hand as she held it tighter.

"It wasn't on the dresser this morning and I can't be ready without it." She thought aloud. Her breaths were shaky and she hated the lack of control she was showing. "Am I holding everyone up? Are they terribly upset with me?"

Ginny moved to lower herself in front of the seated girl, putting herself at eye level with her.

"Hermione, of course no one is upset with you. I promise."

Hermione cradled her left hand into her midsection and shook her head again. "Perhaps I should stay behind. You all go along without me."

"Hermione, you're a member of this family. You know that." Ginny stated firmly. "We aren't going to leave without you."

"I'm keeping everyone." She argued.

"Hermione," Ginny almost laughed at the thought, " trust me no one is in a rush to get going for this."

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Ron sat on the worn couch, his head leaning on his fist as he stared off into the air in front of him.

This day…

He didn't want this day to come. Honestly part of him somehow thought it never would.

But now it had.

He was in a suit and tie, waiting.

He hadn't slept at all the night before. Normally he would wake several times a night due to Hermione. Though she was kept on a heavy nightly dose of dreamless sleep, Ron was forever waking to check on her. The previous night, he simply remained awake the whole time.

He'd set about his nightly habit of sitting with Hermione, feeling her hold on to his hand until the potion would take over. She hadn't even taken it last night until he'd assured her several times that he was alright; he would be alright.

Yet after her hand slackened in his and she surrendered to the blank recesses of thoughtless slumber, Ron remained. Sitting there after the absolutely sleepless night, Ron felt as if the world around him wasn't his own.

This day …it wasn't his life. This wasn't happening.

Only it was.

His eyes glanced up at the clock and immediately fell back down. HE hated when his eyes happened upon the clock and seeing that hand.

"It's half nine." A voice beside him spoke up, surprising Ron. He hadn't been aware that anyone was sitting next to him. He let his eyes glance aside and saw Bill beside him.

"You in a rush?"

Ron let his eyes travel around the room wondering who had said it. When he saw Bill looking straight at him, he realized it had come from his own mouth.

"Percy asked the time, Ron." Bill informed him.

"Sorry, I didn't…" he blew out a breath and simply said, "Sorry."

His attention then went towards Percy who stood in a corner straightening his tie for the fifth time.

He could hear his father speaking in a subdued tone to someone. HE didn't care to notice the words because the way he spoke said it all. His perpetually joyful voice had been overshadowed and eclipsed by grief.

"Is something the matter?" his eyes went up at the absurd question he heard from across the room. Luckily he didn't absently let his opinion be spoken out loud this time. Especially upon realizing it was his mother asking the question to Harry who'd just come down the stairs.

He nodded and answered, "Ginny's with her. Just finishing touches."

Molly gave him an obviously strained smile. Harry cleared his throat and did his best to return a small smile of his own to the matriarch. Her maternal tendencies had been heightened since everything happened. She worried a hundred times over about all of them; taking special care to fret over each of her children, blood born and otherwise, as much as she could.

Footsteps, more than one pair, sounded on the staircase. Ron rose to his feet, recognizing the hesitant steps that approached.

The two girls came into the room and Molly immediately went to Hermione with a hug and then, when she pulled back from the girl who'd tensed at the contact, a searching eye roamed over her. Ron saw Hermione's mouth move, speaking too quietly to be heard by any other than the woman in front of her. He assumed it was a question of some kind because his mother shook her head and as Ron stepped closer he could hear her apologize.

"…sorry dear, but I haven't. We can go have a look if you like."

"No it's alright." Hermione answered quietly, her eyes moving downward as her voice wavered slightly in her attempt to be convincing, "I'm alright."

"Right well, " Molly spoke turning her head to the rest of the room, her hand resting on the shoulder of the girl beside her. Though Hermione still didn't like the amount of physical contact the woman was always bestowing on her, she swallowed thickly and held still, allowing her to do what she needed to get through this day. "It looks like we'll be all ready once George is-"

A loud pop came from behind her and she let out a yelp and jumped in place; turning around and finding her son behind her.

Hermione automatically hunched over, clutching her arms around herself protectively and only keeping from yelping because her breath caught in her throat. She hated loud noises; hated when people snuck up on her.

"George!" His mother turned to reprimand him out of habit, but paused when she saw the half grin on his face as he pulled an old surprise on his mother successfully. She hadn't seen anything close to a smile from him lately. It was a little grin that felt like a huge leap.

However neither was allowed much time to enjoy the moment as her youngest son was suddenly there and gave his brother a shove.

"What's the matter with you" he demanded to know, angry that he didn't seem to care that his entrance had frightened Hermione.

"Oi!" George said, surprised by the attack.

"It's alright, Ron." Hermione spoke softly though her voice gave away how shaken she truly had been. "He meant nothing by it."

George seemed to realize, then, what had upset his brother so. He glanced at the girl with remorse on his features.

"Blimey, I'm sorry Hermione, I didn't think-"

Hermione just shook her head, not wanting to make a spectacle of it or herself any more than she already had.

"No harm done." She told him unconvincingly.

Ron took a step forward, almost as if he were attempting to protect her from his brother, though he knew in his head it was unnecessary. None of his family would ever purposely hurt her.

"Just some consideration next time, yeah?" he spoke to his brother, admitting internally that he may have over reacted.

George nodded in response.

"Well, we're all here." Arthur spoke, breaking into the quiet tension. "I suppose it's time to go, shall we?"

The group slowly, solemnly, began to move toward the portkeys waiting for them. Ron hung back a bit to quietly ask Hermione, "Are you sure you're ok?"

She nodded, "Just a small fight. I'm feeling fine, a bit nervous, but ok."

"Good." He said, then cautiously asked, "and, uh, how are you…you know…thinking? Any trouble with any of it?"

She gave him a wobbly smile and made herself nod.

"Here," he reached in his pocket, "I found this in the hall this morning."

He gave her the black material. "I reckon Crookshanks might've thought to play with it or something."

"Thank you." She replied happily as she slid the glove over her left hand. Like a variation of an archer's glove, it strapped around her wrist and had fingers for the pinky and ring that remained lifeless, as well as a third for the middle finger. It was a piece given to her by McGonagall. It held a charm of some sort; the movement of the middle finger activated the skin tight fabric to pull and bend at the other two fingers, allowing them to move in unison with it. It didn't nothing for the lack of sensation or strength, but it certainly made her feel a bit less self-conscious if it at least appeared that everything was normal.

She almost cried with relief as she watched her hand open and close by way of the spelled piece.

"Thank you so much."

"You're welcome." He felt a blush rise.

There was a moment of hesitation before she leaned in quickly and put a small kiss on his cheek. The impulsive kiss in the hospital wing, or any other such physical affection, had yet to be repeated. As the excitement of the moment passed and, more importantly, snippets of …experience ..returned to Hermione's memory, she had unwillingly become disinclined to take part in any sort of touch. But that wasn't to say she didn't want to. She was most definitely trying.

"Enough about me." She said after a moment, clearing her throat and redirecting the focus of the day where it should be. "Today's about Fred."

Ron nodded, though he didn't want it to be, what she said was true. This day was for his brother. Holding out his hand, he felt her mostly gloved one slide in to his, a small tug of a smile broke through when he felt her full hand close around his in return, and the two followed in the direction of the rest of his family.

In small groups, everyone grabbed hold of their designated portkey and were whisked away in a blur of wild wind to the cemetery.

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